


I always come back to you

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fade to Black, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Platonic Claude/Hilda, Platonic Dimitri/Marianne, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Dimiclaude week, day 7: "Kings"Dimitri and Marianne are the King and Queen Consort of Fódlan; Claude and Hilda are the King and Queen Consort of Almyra... except Dimitri and Claude are in love, as are Marianne and Hilda.While negotiating a peace treaty between their nations, the two couples plan out ways that they can be together.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 11
Kudos: 182





	I always come back to you

These sorts of ceremonies have always gone on for far too long for Dimitri's liking. He's grown accustomed to many aspects of being king - the politics, the lawmaking, the courts - but these prolonged ceremonies full of pomp and rigorous tradition always make him tired.

This time, however, it's worth it. He'd sit through a hundred of these if it means seeing the two of them again and he's sure that Marianne feels the same.

Her hand is on his as they rise from their thrones, dressed in the full regalia befitting of the king and queen of all Fódlan. Her hair is up in an ornate bun, tied with a stag pin made of gold and an eye glinting rose quartz. A gift, and one that Dimitri had treated with the utmost care as he'd helped her to tie it up earlier that morning.

The rest of their clothing is every bit as glamorous, decorated in blue velvets and white gold, with fur lining at their collars as is the fashion in Faerghus. 

As they stand, so do the rest of the nobles in this hall. Former students of the Golden Deer and Blue Lions alike all crowd together amongst lesser nobles and knights who are in a hurry to show respect, their necks craning as they bow to their king and then look curiously toward the twin doors of the great hall as they slide open.

A single man pushes through to the great hall dressed in loose fabrics of greens and yellows, with a gold circlet around his head and a wicked looking scar bisecting the left side of his face, twisting on his lip and narrowly missing his eye. 

He surveys the room for a moment and bows to the king and queen as is customary, before pulling a small scroll from his pouch and unfurling it to read -

"Your highnesses Blaiddyd and Edmund, allow me to be the first to extend a hand to you across our borders as is customary. As you are doubtlessly aware, we have brought the finest silks and wines with which to celebrate our alliance of peace and prosperity, and..."

Dimitri tunes him out. He's never been much for this sort of thing and luckily it's generally handled expertly by Marianne and the others around him. Her fingers tighten on his just a little, an urging to not look too bored even if she understands his desire to think on other things.

The reminder is helpful and he keeps his gaze level with the man as he details the long and intricate list of gifts that they will be receiving as well as, Dimitri realizes with an internal sigh, an itemized list of the gifts that the Kingdom is offering in return. 

He's not the only one who is bored by the ceremony - Sylvain to his left seems to be yawning and elbowed sharply by Felix next to him in annoyance, though Ashe and Dedue in his personal guard to the right are as attentive as can be. 

The man continues and Dimitri refocuses on him several minutes later when he finally gets to the point. 

"...Lastly, arriving for these negotiations of peace, it is my great honor to present to you: Claude von Riegan and Hilda Valentine Goneril, his and her majesty, the king and queen of Almyra."

An electric thrum runs between both Dimitri and Marianne, and the tightening of her fingers on his hand intensifies. Dimitri turns his palm to clutch fingers in his own, his heart leaping to his throat in a sharp contrast to the idle boredom he'd felt only moments ago. They both stand straighter, watching with held breath as Claude and Hilda enter the great hall. 

They look... lovely. Draped in the silks and sheer fabrics of Almyra, the two of them seem almost ethereal as they step forward on the ornate blue rug leading from the entranceway up to the throne. Hilda has her hair down, the long soft pink of it decorated by various braids and threads of gold weaved into it. At her throat is a rich sapphire choker, something that doesn't blend in quite as well with her outfit. The sight of it has Marianne letting out a small gasp next to him and Dimitri can't quite hold back his smile. 

To say nothing of Claude of course, who looks every bit the king that was promised, regal and wild with his mischievous smile that hid too much of his heart and the deep green emeralds that match his eyes woven into his circlet and glinting out from under his dark hair.

They make their way forward together hand in hand, and Dimitri feels his heart wavering, held tense and hopeful as the two monarchies meet one another at the base of Dimitri's throne.

Claude steps forward first, reaching for Marianne's hand which she extends, leaving cool sweat on Dimitri's fingers where she'd been grasping it so tightly.

"A pleasure as always, Queen Blaiddyd-Edmund."

Claude says it lightly as he leans down to kiss at the signet on Marianne's fingers, but while he bows to her he's hidden from view by all but the couple in front of him. It's here that he finally allows his eyes to stray, meeting Dimitri's gaze and holding him captive while his lips press warm and gentle against Marianne's hand. 

"And you as well Claude," Marianne says on a soft laugh, won over by his antics though her eyes never leave the brilliant sapphire around Hildas's neck. 

When they part, Dimitri moves to offer Hilda the same courtesy but she surprises him by grinning and moving forward in an embrace, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him tightly.

"She looks happy," she murmurs in his ear once she's close enough, "thank you."

There isn't time in their embrace for Dimitri to say anything back and so he simply nods as they're separated, offering a slight smile to her and returning his gaze toward Claude 

They haven't all been in the same room together in months and Dimitri has wondered - he's thought that maybe...

 _"Are you nervous?"_ he'd asked Marianne earlier that morning as she sat in front of her vanity delicately putting in the brilliant silver earrings she's wearing now.

She shook her head, the shine of her jewelry catching on the morning light while her fingers lowered to trace wistfully over the stag hairpin.

_"No. I thought I would be, but I'm not. Just… happy."_

It had taken a few more minutes before Marianne thought to ask the same question as she gently reached behind Dimitri to fasten his eyepatch: white and gold, an ornate thing that he'd always felt a bit silly wearing but was necessary for courts like this.

_"Are you nervous to see him again?"_

Dimitri's silence spoke louder than any words he could have said, and Marianne hummed thoughtfully while she'd brushed out his hair.

_"He loves you. I know him and I can see it every time we're together. A few months is nothing when faced with that feeling."_

In the same room with the two of them, Dimitri knows that Marianne was right. He tips his head to give her a sidelong glance - maybe to thank her, or to tell her, but he can't get her attention as all of her focus is solely on Hilda.

Typical. Dimitri's heart swells seeing her so happy and tries to focus on the conversation as Claude and Hilda take their places near the throne.

_

The second they're alone (which takes some doing, with Claude dismissing his guard, Dimitri dismissing his own, and both of them insisting on private negotiations to broker this peace) Hilda rushes for Marianne's arms with a laugh, wrapping her arms around her and pressing their cheeks together.

"You kept it - oh, I thought you might have _way_ prettier jewelry, but I remembered how you always wore your hair and I thought you'd like it -" 

"I love it," Marianne says breathlessly once she can pry Hilda off of her enough to brush her pink hair behind her ears, to look softly in her eye and smile. "I'll always love it. You're wearing the choker too…" 

"Well - " 

Hilda scoffs, casting an affectionate-yet-dismissive glance back toward Claude.

"This one has the _worst_ taste in jewelry. I don't think he's gotten me a single thing that doesn't clash with my hair."

"Ah, Hilda, I'm wounded!" Claude laughs, play-acting an arrow through his heart.

Dimitri watches all of this play out feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. Claude seems simply amused to watch the two girls as they get reacquainted, but after a few moments of this, his gaze turns toward Dimitri and he takes a step toward him.

It feels like all the air in the room suddenly evaporates when Claude touches his cheek.

"I like this," he finally says, his thumb brushing against the edge of Dimitri's overly-ornate eyepatch. "And your hair. I was worried you'd cut it again, but I like the way this looks on you."

Dimitri kisses him then, sudden and earnest and too long without feeling the press of Claude's mouth against his own. He doesn't have to look over to know that Hilda and Marianne are enjoying similar moments of intimacy, and in that moment they might as well be the only four people on existence.

Dimitris hands go into Claude's hair, catching on his circlet and tugging it off to dangle from his fingers, just to feel the way that the dark locks shift, soft and pliant under his hands. He wants to touch him forever. He wants to keep him close. He wants, with so much ferocity that his heart breaks with it, for Claude to _stay._

The kiss eventually breaks and Dimitri finally smiles a full-blown grin, pressing his forehead against Claude's own and just… looking at him, drinking him in.

"So," Hilda starts up conversationally, nudging Dimitri's arm with her elbow. She leans in like a conspirator, shifty-eyed despite them being the only ones in the room, and offers a too-loud whisper:

"We're staying next to the royal suite, right? Whaddya say big guy, you think ten o'clock is too early?" 

"Hilda!" Claude laughs, tugging Dimitri's arm back and away from her suggestive eyebrow wiggling. "We have to get through the feast first."

She shrugs helplessly, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to a red-faced Marianne while Claude shakes his head and looks back toward Dimitri, his voice low. 

"- but seriously though, you've checked the servant schedules? Organized the guard rounds? I don't want anyone catching you two. I could take a look at the preparations if you want…" 

"It's fine," Dimitri insists, chuckling, "everything is going to be fine. Marianne will be having a headache - we won't be bothered until mid-afternoon."

"You want to hinge our one morning together on a headache?" Claude asks, impossibly charming and yet still critical of Dimitri's scheming skills. "You've got to make it more dire than that. Say - I dunno, lady problems. No one ever questions lady problems. Hilda does it all the time to get out of court." 

Dimitri lifts an eyebrow. 

"And then Ingrid will come knocking with an herbal tea to help her."

"- ah."

Claude deflates and his mouth goes into something that could almost be considered a pout, and it's cute enough that Dimitri has to haul him in for another long kiss.

"Don't worry. I promise this will work."

It's enough to make Claude smile again and he pecks a soft kiss in return on Dimitri's lips. 

"Of course it will. It _was_ my excellent idea, after all."

_

It was, in fact, Claude's idea, three years ago when Dimitri had first taken the throne and Claude had felt that he'd done all he could for Fódlan and chose to ride out for Almyra.

Their romance had been budding then, a thin and gossamer thing, but Dimitri knew then, just as he knows now. 

Hilda had been offended at first, then angry, then contemplative when Claude offered to make her his queen when he'd known even then that she loved Marianne and would never love anyone else. Marianne, by contrast, was thoughtful and cautious, asking gentle questions and nodding with the answers that Claude gave. 

How long would they be apart? Awhile. 

Consummation? Unnecessary if they were all in on it. 

Weddings? Please, extravagant ones, weddings that shake the whole kingdom!

Children? Not needed for some time yet, always time to make contingency plans. 

And that was that. Claude and, by proxy, Dimitri, offered to make them two of the most powerful women in the world in exchange for helping their friends to avoid a future arranged marriage. In return, they also got to avoid scrutiny from their families and now… well.

It’s simple enough, isn’t it?

_

Dimitri straightens his outfit in the mirror later that evening, his lips twisted into a frown as he tries to get the coat to sit just right, but it resists him at every turn. From her vanity, Marianne is delicately undoing her hair and Dimitri has to look back at her the moment she takes it down, watching as rivers of soft blue cascade down to her lower back.

He loves her. Not the same way that he loves Claude, but in the last few years, Marianne has proven more than a worthy partner: she’s been a friend, an ally in times of need, and someone who understood things about him that no one else did. This arrangement may have been something they were both unsure of at first, but it worked out surprisingly well and the two of them had bonded in a way that no one really expected.

Marianne catches him staring in the mirror and smiles at him through the reflection as she twists her hair upward to pin a small section back with Hilda’s pin.

“It’s almost ten,” she reminds him gently, and Dimitri turns back as if admonished, tugging at his clothes again.

She moves to stand, dressed in a simple nightgown, the length of it almost reaching the floor. When she moves up behind Dimitri, she looks serene, the softness of her face only amplified by the long tresses of her hair and gentle folds of her clothing.

“Thank you,” Marianne murmurs to him, patting at his shoulder, “for letting us stay in the royal suite.”

Dimitri turns his shoulders toward her and leans in to kiss at her temple, affectionate and platonic.

“Of course. I’ll be just down the hall if you need me for anything.”

She lets out a soft laugh and nods, a pink flush rising to her cheeks as she looks over Dimitri’s reflection in the mirror. Carefully, Marianne reaches out her delicate hand and tucks back a small corner of the fabric, fixing Dimitri’s earlier issue with barely a glance.

“There,” she says, nodding, “you’re perfect.”

And it’s time.

Marianne moves to stoke the fire while Dimitri gives one last glance at his reflection in the mirror before moving out, opening the massive door that leads into the hall and closing it behind him with a gentle creak.

As arranged, there are no guards in the hall, not even a servant. The walls and carpeting are cast into shadow as he moves past several portraits, until he can see a door open at the end of the hall and a pink figure sliding out, whispering something madly back into the room before closing it behind her.

When Hilda turns, she catches Dimitri’s eye and offers him a grin and a thumbs up. She’s wearing a dressing gown, something dark and red, edged in a floral pattern. It’s pulled over her own nightgown, the front of it haphazardly tied shut. Most of the jewelry and beads are gone from her hair, but the choker remains and Dimitri smiles to see it as they pass one another.

Hilda holds up a hand.

Dimitri stares at her for a moment, halted in his progression and she lifts an eyebrow at him, mischievously suggestive. Finally, Dimitri relents, offering a theatrical sigh before lifting his own hand and meeting her in a hi five as they cross paths on their way to swapping rooms.

Claude and Hilda’s room isn’t that much further down and Dimitri doesn’t bother with knocking, merely opens the door and slips inside, closing and locking it behind him. 

When he turns, he’s graced with the image of Claude in only an open dressing gown, laying lazily on his side on the bed, one of his knees hitched up as he watches Dimitri enter the room. The robe is open, revealing his broad chest, his soft abdomen, the bareness of his legs, but the fabric artfully (and purposefully, Dimitri thinks) drapes over his midsection, hiding anything overtly immodest from view.

“Well, well, well,” Claude starts, lounging like he hasn’t a care in the world and tipping his face up toward Dimitri, “what do we have here? Did you get lost on the way back to your quarters, your highness?”

Dimitri wants to play coy, he wants to pretend to be exasperated, but seeing Claude like this after so long… it riles him up and makes him play right into Claude’s expert hands.

He crosses the room in a matter of moments, barely managing to keep himself from stumbling as he starts to work on the ties of his coat, shedding it quickly despite all the time he took trying to get it to sit perfectly. He sits at the edge of the bed once it’s on the floor and reaches for Claude, catching him by the open lapel of his dressing gown and dragging him in closer.

“I spent so long trying to find an outfit you’d find pleasing,” he admits, wrinkling his nose, “when I should have just done what you did and come over wearing as little as possible.”

“Darling,” Claude murmurs endearingly, sitting up more fully as he crowds into Dimitri’s personal space and reaches for his cheek, his grin genuine and stunning, “you look your best when you’re wearing nothing at all. Now, strip for me.”

_

After, Claude is pillowed on Dimitri’s chest, smiling faintly to himself as he listens to the _thud, thud, thud_ of his beating heart. Dimitri watches him, smoothing his fingers through his hair. He spares a moment to wonder how Marianne and Hilda are doing and then decides that it’s better if he doesn’t know.

“That was nice,” Claude murmurs, letting his eyes slip shut and Dimitri swirls his finger around one of Claude’s curls, trying to commit every moment of this to memory. With the happiness of seeing Claude again comes the sadness of knowing that it’s not going to last: in a few days, Claude will ride out to Almyra again with his wife and leave Dimitri here again, for who knows how long.

He wishes to go with him, to be near him somehow, for even longer. These snatched-away moments never feel like enough, not when he can never be sure of when he’ll see Claude again. It turns each reunion into an exquisite bittersweetness, not to know.

Dimitri leans down to press a kiss to Claude’s temple, shifting so he’s slightly more comfortable.

“Do you think we can spend the next few nights together?” he asks, unable to keep what’s on his mind out of the conversation.

Claude tilts his head upward to look at him with a reassuring smile and nods, pressing a consoling kiss to Dimitri’s mouth.

“Of course. I'm yours,” he promises and Dimitri nods, holding him tighter.

“It’s just…” he starts and then doesn’t know how to say it so his voice tapers off. After he’s collected himself for a moment or two, he tries again. “It’s hard, not knowing how long these visits will last for, or when the next one will be. I want all of your time, even when you’re not here.”

Claude pauses and turns then, to lie on his stomach beside Dimitri, chin resting in his hand, elbow on the mattress so he can really look at him, contemplative.

“Do you know how much I think about you, your highness?” He asks, and Dimitri tries to fight back the sudden flush that he can feel blossoming up in his cheeks. He wasn’t looking for reassurance like this, but it’s not unpleasant to hear.

Claude continues, moving to his spare hand to fingerwalk up the hard plane of Dimitri’s chest.

“I think about you when I wake up in the morning to the sun in my eyes. I think about your furs when I put on my jacket. I think about your hair when I’m brushing mine. I think about you when I look up at the night sky and see the same stars you do. And you’d better believe that I think about you each time I take myself in my hand to cut the edge of my desire for you.”

By now, his hand is up near Dimitri’s face and Dimitri tips his head to kiss at it, teeth catching at the pad of Claude’s index finger, but he lets him go without a fight when Claude pulls back, curling back into his side.

“And besides,” Claude speaks again, fighting back a yawn, “I’ve got a plan for all that _not knowing_ business.”

Dimitri fights back a chuckle, though he’s touched by Claude’s gentle affection, the same way he always is. Leave it to Claude to confess his love like that and follow it up with _I’ve got a plan_.

“What is it, then?” He asks, turning to lay on his side to curl around Claude, his chest pressing warmly against Claude’s back. Claude reaches for the blanket around their hips and tugs it up around their shoulders before letting the warmth of Dimitri’s body wrap around him, keep him safe.

Like this, he can nestle his nose into the nape of Claude’s neck and breathe him in, keep his scent on him throughout the night. It makes him feel peaceful, at ease.

“Well…” Claude says and then sighs, squirming a little in Dimitri’s grip. “...a shared, national holiday between Almyra and Fódlan. Probably based on the date of the treaty signing. I’m thinking something like ‘Alliance Day’ or ‘Restoration Day’. Where you and I - and everyone else, of course - joins together for a weekend of games and contests and shared culture between our nations.”

Dimitri tips his head quizzically, though he can’t see Claude’s face with the way that they’re laying. He opens his mouth to reply, but Claude continues, heedless.

“I’ve already discussed it with Hilda and she loves it. We could celebrate in the Locket, where there used to be bloodshed between us. Make it a festival with lots of feasting - and where we can take a few days to ourselves among the revelry.”

He can’t help it, Dimitri feels his mouth quirk into a smile at first, and then a blooming grin, his teeth pressed against Claude’s vertebrae. It’s such a lovely idea and the thought that, if nothing else, they could all be guaranteed to meet once a year during the celebration… something about the certainty of it sets his mind at ease and soothes the sting of their separation.

Dimitri hugs Claude a little tighter, his arms pressed warmly around his waist, and finally speaks.

“...you’re going to fabricate an international holiday just so that you can see me?”

He can feel, rather than hear Claude’s chuckling scoff and Claude turns his head so that he can at least get one eye on Dimitri’s face, his own expression glowing.

“Don’t ever underestimate what I’d do to see you. And to let the girls see each other, of course. Plus, who loses out? We should all be looking for reasons to have _more_ feasts, really.”

“Of course,” Dimitri replies, laughing as he leans in for another kiss, which Claude offers up readily.

There will be times in between, he thinks - meetings between their nations, or just little visits that they can pay one another. But the idea of this, a sure thing, something that they can prepare for, a festival for _them_... it’s a gift, and one that he will not overlook, now or ever.

And, he thinks, Claude has the right idea of it. A holiday is the perfect excuse to see one another on a regular schedule. It’s a shame that it only happens once a year, but…

“Maybe we should have two,” he offers, reasonably. “One for the signing of the treaty, and one for the restoration of the Locket and enactment of the treaty. Six months apart.”

“Or four holidays! Four feasts!” Claude exclaims, silly with drowsiness and excitement over his own plans now, which Dimitri finds quite endearing. He presses one last kiss to Claude’s ear and thinks about seeing him like this, curled away in one another for days.

He can make something like that work.

**Author's Note:**

> I had only two notes for this fic: "Dimitri and Hilda hi five while they swap rooms" and "Claude starts a national holiday so he can bone". I hope you enjoyed what is probably my most lighthearted fic of the week!
> 
> Also - happy early MariHilda week! If I'd planned better, I'd definitely have done a bedroom scene with the two of them as well, but alas.
> 
> Hit me up on twitter for more ship fun, [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated)!


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